journey through

A BALLAD TO MY UNSUNG HERO Look at his rippling muscles, Look at sweat glistening from his body as he whacks away at the stubborn scrap, Look at the focus and determination in his eyes, Look how he turns that ugly piece into such a fine pan. This is a ballad to my hero, The man who works without his shirt on the whole day, surrounded by intimidating flames of orange fire, but works on undaunted and undistracted, That man with the toughest black skin, the shiniest of all scalps, Look at that man who puts food on our table and clothes on our back, This is a ballad to my unsung hero, He who speaks with a voice heavier than lead but has a heart softer than wool, He who says little in words but lets his actions speak volumes, That man who laughs at my icy jokes and encourages my crazy dreams, This is a ballad to my unsung hero, He that calls me an angel when I know my acts really are demonic, He who chases me around as we play the evening away, He that

WHO SAID YOU WERE DEAD? Its two years today since you walked out of this world and out of my life. I sit by the dying embers reminiscing the moments we had but specifically the last day we had together. I know you are happy back there and probably running in a field of orchids or swimming in a stream of strawberry juice. I’m just writing to let you know thought that you never died. To me it still is an illusion, a dream that I will wake from sometime. They have asked me countless times to let the dead go but the question, who said you were dead? I see you every night on a white horse beckoning me to join you but I always wake up just before I reach you and you gallop off into the horizon, I see you when I smell your favourite food cooking. I’d like to let you know that your ghost has never been exorcized from my heart and I have always lived in denial, refusing to believe that you are gone, hoping to wake up in the morning and find you there but when it comes, the bed is filled

WHY I’D SAY NO TO A CAMPUS CHICK A little girl born in one of the rural corners of Kenya, goes to a local primary school and works hard to secure a post in a provincial school, gets a B plain and the university placement board seals her fate with a Degree in Tourism and Hospitality Management. The day she had always awaited finally comes and she leaves hand in hand with her mother since the father either died or is utterly irresponsible. They walk in hand in hand and she endures the sun, the stench of sweat and foul mouths to make sure she is registered. The mother gives her a mouthful of advice and chunks off a big part of her savings and with tears in her eyes watches her walk off, alone and about to face the world. She feels lost, homesick and confused, doesn’t know her way around university and has roommates who also suffer the same treatment. They become best of friends and walk in a cluster for the first week before the lucky ones find their ‘better halves’ and wander off

I’ve just seen a feature of two people, both of them being blind, but happen to be a couple so deeply in love with each other. Seventeen years of marriage, and with no kids I must add hasn’t changed a thing between them. What really attracted my attention though was not their blindness or their love life, it was their devotion to God. Despite the fact that they couldn’t see a thing, they didn’t blame anyone, they didn’t ask questions nor did they ever complain. They thanked God for creating them blind for it led them to one another and made them even stronger. They might have been blind, but they have seen the love and sustenance of the lord and have lived to tell the tale. One couldn’t help shedding tears as they watched them looking at each other unseeingly, their hearts speaking volumes that their eyes couldn’t. That got me thinking. We wake up each morning and realize that we can still see, we can talk, we can walk and above all, we are alive. But has that ever stopped us from

I know you want to leave me now, i ask of you though, don’t leave me slowly and cautiously. Turn over tables and throw my clothes all over the street. Shout all you want to all the people so that they may know what a jerk i’ve been. Make sure my heart has been shattered into a million pieces. Make me open my eyes and see you leave. Make sure i remember all we’ve had and all we’ve never. Don’t try to comfort my heart or even considering my tears and my pleas. Don’t pat my back comfortingly, rather walk out and bang the door in my face and walk into the oblivion. Show me that you don’t need me anymore to ensure i feel the pain of you walking away. Do not shed a tear for me. Make sure i am broken beyond repair and that i would never love again. Who has ever heard of a sweet heartbreak? It doesn’t exist so make sure you pass the message as it should be. Don’t pull me down bit by bit. Bring me down like you would a crooked wall. Spare me not. Make sure i never wake up from the rubble.